SQUAREWHEELS.org.uk
Cats

Widget & Tawny, our cats

When I play with my cat, who knows if I am not a
pastime to her more than she is to me?— Michel E. de
Montaigne

This page was last modified on 26 June 2015.

With a heavy heart but with much pride, we announce that
Tawny has now left us. At the grand age of 21 years and 2
months her health’s decline steepened and she was taken to the vet for
the last time today, Friday 26 June 2015.

Thus ends the era of “Widget & Tawny”, of cat-ownership, of being
owned by these two little furry people, that has been a fixture of almost
my entire adult life (they came to live with us in February 1996!).
While cat-food for cats aged 7+ is marketed as ‘senior’, Tawny at nearly
three times that age was still running around like a mischievous
kitten; and she provided much companionship and encouragement to Rupert
during autumn 2014 as he convalesced—see illustration. The house
(latterly known as Tawnytopia!) and household won’t ever be quite the
same.

It was with considerable sadness that we reported that
Widget is no longer with us. After a short illness (renal
failure) she was put to sleep on 7 October 2009. At fifteen years and
five months of age, she was greatly personable and much loved to the
end.

What did you think you’d caught us
doing?

The remainder of this page has not been modified
as yet since its previous updating of 2006.

Our household has as its main residents, two adorably sweet furry
felines, Widget and Tawny; they are now
over twelve (108) years of age apiece, and they’re ‘sisters’ — from the
same litter, but judging by their very different coats they do not share
a father. We were taken into their ownership in early 1996 when they
were about 1 year and 10 months old. They’ve existed quite happily for a
long time, although from time to time Widget can get a bit bossy; but
it’s not unusual for me to come in and find them all tangled up in a ball
on my bed, as seen above! Their names seem slightly unconventional at
first, but very soon after meeting them it becomes obvious that the names
are ideally suited to each.

Tawny

This is the mischievous one! She’s called
Tawny. Isn’t she just the cutest, cuddliest thing
you ever saw? Those big green eyes are so very expressive and she is
obviously using them to communicate something to me — probably to
leave her alone with her sunny solitude, her kid sister and all the
chase-able froggies in the garden. She is less timid than Widget, and
doesn’t seem to need as much sleep either. She’s brave and
adventurous — I’ve watched her defend her territory against
much larger cats, and have been obliged to go out late at night many
times with a torch trying to find her, as we haven’t got a
cat-flap.

In her paw-trait she’s looking for all the world as if
she’s strokable, soft and fluffy: a companionable long-haired
tortoiseshell. This happens to be true, but she also likes vindictively
tearing up carpets and wrecking furniture, and not using her litter
tray... But if she does these things, it is clearly us, her pets, who
are at fault. She’s seen on the left here, putting her best paws
forward and enjoying a bit of sunny solitude; Tawny also likes:

going on the kitchen table, which she knows she
shouldn’t do;

batting balls of silver paper round the room;

“her” piece of string which hangs from the clothes-airer;

making the special chirruping “Prrmmmp” noise normally reserved for
saying “Follow me, I’ve found something”;

MarmiteTM (she licks it off our fingers,
which for us is painful!)

deciding that it’s now time for her breakfast, at half past
three in the morning;

She really hates the hoover (Big Noisy Thing coming to get me). We
have to make sure the hoover isn’t between her and the door to the room
before switching it on, because otherwise she’s forced to run to the
dead-end and cower in the corner in a most undignified way; there again,
she knows now what the hoover sounds like when it’s just being wheeled
into the room, and usually scarpers at that point anyway.

Tawny! Get Down from
there!

Widget

And now, come and meet the other one... here she is: she’s called
Widget. A ginger domesticated short-haired cat may not
seem uncommon, but this particular one is a she, and Ginger Queens are
most certainly uncommon: when she’s having one of her not-uncommon sulks
we cheer her up by reminding her that she’s ‘very rare’. Her temperament
is quite different to Tawny’s, she’s more shy but more immediately
affectionate (you have to let Tawny get to know you a bit first). As
soon as you meet her, she allows you to pick her up, and if you do it
correctly she rewards you by starting up a loud purring right next to
your ear (she sometimes sniffles around in it to tell you she thinks it
needs cleaning), before mountaineering around on your shoulders. This
gives her the opportunity to show her affection by digging her claws into
your shoulder — and Widget’s claws really are the sharpest I’ve ever
felt.

Widget is seen here, on the same occasion as her ‘kid’ sister,
relaxing in some sunny solitude in front of a train-seat. She usually
sharpens her claws on the scratch-pad (“good girl!”) but when we start
telling Tawny to follow Widget’s example, the latter sometimes spoils
things by setting to work on the bookcase or chest of drawers. One of
these days I’m going to come in from going to the shops and, where the
drawers used to be, there’ll be a giant pile of matchwood with Widget
purring contentedly on top of it, elegantly washing herself and looking
at you as if to suggest it’s about time she were fed…

When I said above that she sulks quite a lot, this might be because
she isn’t always in full health, often not eating very much and feeling
precariously thin. Partly because of this, and also because of her
thinner coat, she is especially fond of warm places and will often be
“missing” for many hours before being spotted fast asleep in an unusual
(but warm) place. Widget also likes:

sleeping on people’s legs at night;

fishing;

making gorgeous “yepping” noises at mealtimes or when she’s not
getting enough attention;

being found in the bathroom where she shouldn’t be;

curling up into a disk and hiding in unmade beds, or on chairs which
are pushed in against the table, or on the floorboards above the heating
pipes.

She is at her cutest when being groomed (the brush & comb
treatment), as she obviously loves it and does her level best to make
sure you know this.

She’s done her very best to look dignified whilst perched on top of a
washing-machine in the garden — the next shot on the film is of her
getting down, fed up with all this posing…

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